The ending of Andor seemed pretty much preordained: No matter what, Cassian had to end up alone and en route to the events of Rogue One. So it was hard to imagine that the show had any surprises in store for its series finale — except that it absolutely did. In our latest interview with showrunner Tony Gilroy, he explains the twist ending and addresses other burning questions from the Star Wars drama’s masterful second season.
Let’s get right to the final twist: So Bix knew she was pregnant with Cassian’s child when she left Yavin, right?
I think that’s a way to play it. I wouldn’t argue against that. I think that Adria [Arjona] went for that [in her performance]. I don’t know the math exactly, but one would think that would have something to do with it. Yeah.
I did not see it coming and I thought it was clever. But if people start thinking, “Hey, now we can have a Son of Andor spin-off show set 30 years later” — because that’s how people tend to think about Star Wars — are they missing the point?
I want to be hopeful at the end. I want to finish on something positive. Rebellions are built on hope. I want to honor the people that have sacrificed all the way through the whole show. And at the same time, if I can do that and give Disney a reason for being happy about going forward and not ending on a bummer, why not?
It just felt like sometimes things that are a little bit of a grab are also organic and it just felt like we checked ourselves: Are we being too cheesy? But we earned it. I think we really earned it. And the tipping point was really realizing, as you said before, if that’s in her head, if she knows she’s pregnant, how much that helps tip that decision to leave.
Luthen’s assistant Kleya [Elizabeth Dulau], I think people were surprised and impressed by how important her role becomes in this season. She’s a dark-horse favorite character, and I was pleased as she becomes a bigger part of the story. Did you always have it in mind that she was gonna really step out?
That’s one of the real pleasures of working on this huge, long-term thing — because you come in and you’re sketching and you’re doing stuff, and you’re looking at what’s wrong and what’s right and what can this person do, and “Oh, my God, look how great this person is.” And Elizabeth Dulau, this is her first gig. She came right out of [U.K. acting school] RADA. Never had a gig. And a couple other actors were cast and then left for bigger roles and other things. She came in and we realized, “She’s really great. Oh, my God. She stands up to Stellan [Skarsgård].”
And I never knew what Genevieve O’Reilly was gonna be like. She’s a legacy character, but my God, she’s a Stradivarius! Elizabeth Dulau, holy crap. We don’t have any bad film on Elizabeth. Every scene, she crushed. And you wanna start pushing the envelope: “What can she do?” So it’s the meeting of the opportunity and the necessity and realizing what somebody can do.
With the Mon Mothma Senate speech, people have drawn many parallels. But where was that coming from for you, especially the part about the importance of objective truth?
That’s an issue that’s been on the table for a long time. Again, you can quote chapter and verse throughout the century of places where that’s been a real issue. I would ask for the indulgence of this not having been written to the moment and that I’m trying to be timeless and not pinned-down. I would lean on the fact that history is always relevant. Is this about burning books? Is this about burning witches? Is this about Galileo? What is it about?
No truth, no justice. I think that speech could work sadly in a lot of governing bodies over the last 500 years and still have its relevance. The false flag, the propaganda use of an inciting incident. The burning of the Reichstag, “Oh, let’s round up all the Communists and all the Jews. They burned it down.” The Gulf of Tonkin, brings us into Vietnam. You can go on and on.
When does this speech not have relevance? I don’t know. If it has relevance now, then too bad for us. We happen to be living in more history than we might care to.
People were wondering if and how the Force would come into the show. And with the Force healer who sort of reads Cassian’s fortune, you found a way to incorporate it and also to introduce this idea of destiny. The way I read it, that idea of making sure Cassian fulfilled his destiny was key to Bix’s decision.
Totally, yeah.
So it seemed pretty elegant. How did that come together and what was your thinking there?
Exactly as you said. I wanted her to leave. I thought about killing her in different ways, but I wanted her to leave. And I would’ve been disappointed if we didn’t have some aspect of the Force. I would’ve been disappointed if we’d have these conversations that we’d have with the show coming out where I’d completely ignored something that was so important to so many people and was such a baked-in part of the world.
So when it came together the whole destiny aspect of it began to get really attractive. I thought, why shouldn’t it be destiny? He’s at Aldhani, he’s at Narkina. What’s he been through — why is he still alive? It’s amazing. What’s saving him? What is this about? And what’s the least cheesy way I can get at that?
And if it was me, wouldn’t you be afraid? The reluctance about destiny is just as fascinating as the acceptance of it in a way. And his fear of it, his reluctance about it, and then in the end, the fact that it takes the person he loves the most away from him. We had to get to a place where it felt legit to everybody that she would leave. And I think we finally found an emotional truth as we went through it. There were a lot of conversations.
Now that you’ve got a taste for how much can be done within a genre like sci-fi, has it changed your idea of the kind of things you want to do with the rest of your career?
No. [Laughs.] I wanna go back and direct if I can. I’m trying to get a movie off. I’m not sure I will, but I’d like to get back. I wrote a script over the summer and the show made me a better writer on an order of magnitude I can’t even comprehend, because most of what you write doesn’t get made. And a lot of times you’re spinning your wheels. And for this, everything that we wrote, everything that came out of this room went to set and got filmed. And there’s just… I got 1,500 pages, 24 hours of scenes, with great actors and great directors. I got a major lift off the show. Whatever it took off my life, it gave me a huge advantage as a writer. I’m so much a better writer now than I was five years ago.
I’m proud of what we did. I don’t wanna sound arrogant or anything like that, but it would be hard to imagine I would ever work on anything that would be as important to me as this has been. I’d like to have a nice run with my chops at this point. I feel like a ballplayer who’s just been playing all season and my knees are good and I’m ready to go. I really feel like my game is on, and I’d like to use it while I got it.
I’m curious, where, if anywhere, you surprised yourself in the creation of Season Two.
We were all pushed back by what time did to these characters. In that last montage — where they are and Dedra in the prison and Genevieve and Val there and Kleya waking up saying, “Oh, my God” — what time has done to them is not something that you… I don’t know, maybe somebody is so smart that they can plan that. I don’t have that visionary power, but it’s really cool to get there and go, “Wow, look what happened.” That’s a surprise.
